


Another Bloody Vampire Story

by Zeddembi



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Vampirism, Witchcraft, Witches, beta phase, btw I don't know anything about how restaurants work, by the way why are there so many square states?, cuz it's all based in a totally fictional city, for Fallout boy i have to research geography and walking speeds and all that jazz, h8rs gon h8, i drew a map of America to procrastinate working on it, i suck at coming up with city names, i'm working on this because i can't decide on a bunch details for chapter five of Fallout Boy, live with it, researching magic and monsters is way easier, so please suspend any and all disbelief when it comes to The Disloyal Order, subject to editing, this'll probably be my procrastination project for most of Fallout Boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-07 06:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11617932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeddembi/pseuds/Zeddembi
Summary: Lowly waiter Brendon Urie is slammed face-first into the supernatural world when he realises that the people of his hometown, Panatco, aren't as boring as they should be.





	1. push

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This work is in it's beta phase. Prepare for chapters to be edited and/or rewritten.
> 
> Beta questions! Feel free to answer these in the comments!  
> Characters:  
> 1) From the descriptions, could you clearly imagine what each character looks like? Any you couldn't? (This question is aimed especially at peeps from outside these fandoms)  
> 2) Who is your favourite character? Why?  
> 3) Anybody you don't like? Why? (Ignoring things peeps have done in real life, naturally)  
> 4) Was there ever a moment you felt annoyed or frustrated by a character? When?  
> 5) Can you relate to Brendon? Did you empathise with his goals and motivations?  
> 6) Are his goals and motivations unclear?  
> 7) Are the other characters' goals and motivations clear and understandable?  
> 8) Are there too many characters to keep track of?  
> 9) Do the characters feel three dimensional and real, or like cardboard cutouts?  
> Dialogue:  
> 1) Did the dialogue seem natural to you?  
> 2) Were you ever confused about who was talking?  
> Setting:  
> 1) Were you able to visualise when and where the story was taking place?  
> 2) Is the setting realistic and believable?  
> Genre:  
> 1) What genre(s) do you feel best fits the story?  
> 2) Did anything about the story feel tired/cliche to you?  
> 3) Did anything remind you of other works? Why?  
> Plot/pacing/scenes:  
> 1) Did you feel there were any scenes that could be cut out or shortened? Any that I should've expanded a bit? What were they and why?  
> 2) Do the scenes flow naturally and at a comfortable pace? Did you feel like they were jumping around the place?  
> 3) Were there any moments where your focus and attention were lost? Why?  
> 4) Did you ever come across a sentence that took you out of the moment or that you needed to reread?  
> 5) Was the writing style fluid and easy to read?  
> 6) Did you notice any inconsistencies in facts, plot, etcetera?  
> Extra Questions!  
> 1) What were three things you really liked? Three things you disliked?  
> 2) Can you try predicting any upcoming plot twists or outcomes?  
> 3) Was there ever a moment that tested your suspension of disbelief?  
> 4) Is there anything you'd personally change about, or add to, the story?  
> 5) Were the plot twists surprising or expected? Was the foreshadowing nonexistent or heavy-handed?  
> 6) Was the humour ever awkward or strange?  
> Feel free to add other comments, I need all the feedback I can get!

They used to be less of a problem. In high school they mostly crept in the corners of my vision, disappearing when I turned to look at them properly. For a long time I blamed my tired, overworked mind. All the stress of schoolwork had it playing tricks on me.

They got bolder a while before graduation, untying my shoelaces to trip me up, stopping my watch to make me late for classes. But still, I was sure it was just bad luck and a lack of focus. What else could it be?

I started to realize it wasn’t all just in my mind one day at work, a few years later. I was carrying a tray of coffee and desserts to a table and dropped it. My boss was furious at first. He apologised profusely to the customers before yanking me away from the scene to take a bite out of me in the kitchen.

I was barely aware of the kitchen staff bustling around us as he furiously demanded to that I explain exactly what the hell happened out there. For such a short guy, he can be downright scary.

I didn’t reply at first. I only stared unseeingly into the ground, taking deep, quick breaths.

Chef Wentz gently pulled me out to the back of the restaurant, yelling for someone to bring out a glass of water. He sat me down on the step outside and crouched in front of me. He softly asked what happened.

I felt a pricking at the corners of my eyes. When I opened my mouth to answer tears spilled from my eyes and I gasped for breath. Awful, paralyzing fear tore through me. He moved next to me and put an arm around my shoulders, rubbing my arm comfortingly as my emotions overwhelmed me.

“It’s okay,” he said gently, handing me the glass of water, “Everyone drops a tray occasionally.”

But I hadn’t dropped it. I felt a force, like an invisible hand, push the tray to the ground. It hadn’t been an accident. Something did that. 

When I’d calmed down somewhat, Chef Wentz stood, saying he had to get back inside. He commanded me to take the rest of the night off and to call in sick tomorrow if I needed to. It was Friday, a busy night, but my mental health was more important than getting food to tables a little faster, he told me. 

I finish the water and head back inside. On my way to the change rooms I leave the glass on a tray of dirty dishes for someone to take care of. I shower, letting the water wash away the last of my tears. I’d overreacted, I'm stressed, I hadn’t been paying attention when I was walking and I slipped.

I know that’s not true, but it's more acceptable than any other theory. 

When I'm clean, I go to my locker to get dressed. I carefully pull on my clothes and take my backpack and skateboard from the locker. As I swing my pack onto my back, the locker slams shut, scaring the hell outta me.

“Hey! Chill, man.” I turn quickly to see a guy with short blond hair at his locker, giving me an indignant glare.

“Sorry! I didn’t hear you come in,” I reply. I know him. He's…Bob! I’d seen him around back when I was in high school. A lot of people had said he was a creep. 

“Whatever.” He goes back to pulling clothes from his locker, several feet from me. Too far to have been able to even breath on my locker. My pack must’ve hit it. It had to have. 

I look down and nearly run out.

When I'm outside I take a couple of deep breaths. I pull my iPod from my pocket and put a Beatles playlist on shuffle. It’s always help calm me in the past. Bringing the ear buds to my ears, I close my eyes, letting the music fill me.

The moment doesn’t last. I feel a prickling at the back of my neck that sends my heart racing. I throw my board to the ground and speed down the alley behind the main street's restaurants. 

By the time I'm almost calm again I’ve reached my apartment complex. My place is only on the second floor, so I take the stairs at a jog, trying to dispel whatever energy I have left.

I force my key into the lock, hands shaking. I fling the door open and sigh in relief when it shuts behind me. Sliding to the floor, I pull out my earbuds.

“Hi.” I look up at my roommate, Gerard, who's sitting on the sofa in a singlet and boxers. “You’re home early.”

The door to the bathroom opens and Frank from down the hall emerges, drying his dark hair with a towel. Another, thankfully, wraps his inked hips tightly. I've seriously never seen more tattoos on such a tiny person, they're everywhere. He even has letters across his knuckles. Frank stops short when he sees me.

“Uh…”

“Sup?” I greet, quickly getting up from my place in front of the door. I leave my pack and board on the ground. Gerard fills in the awkward silence.

“Frank’s shower is busted. I told him he could use ours until it was fixed.”

I look back at Gerard, noticing a slight flush to his cheeks, which is weird since he’s one of the pastiest people I know. I'm pretty sure I've seen white paint darker than him. I shake my head, clearing it.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll leave you guys to it.”

Gerard opens his mouth to reply, but seems to think better of it as I turn and go to the kitchen.

I fill a glass with water at the sink, down it in a few gulps, then fill it again. I drink more slowly this time. 

Someone moves into the kitchen.

“Frank’s about to leave,” Gerard says sheepishly.

“It’s fine, man,” I reply, “It’s none of my business.”

Gerard looks about to say something, but Frank cuts him off.

“I’ll see you around, Gee!” He calls from the living room.

“Yeah, see ya!” Gerard yells back.

I hear the door close behind Frank and wash out my cup. Gerard is quiet for a moment. He tucks his dark hair behind an ear, watching me. 

“Hey, I thought you were gonna do these,” I say, indicating to the pile of dirty dishes next to the sink.

“I thought you were gonna be home at ten thirty,” he returns.

I look at him.

“I’ll do ‘em now,” he says quickly, moving to the sink. Gerard hates confrontations. I stand out of the way to let him wash.

“So uh…” He glances up at me as the sink fills with water. “Why are you back so early?”

“I dropped a tray at work-“ Gerard turns to face me.

“Wentz didn’t fire you, did he?” he demands.

“What? No, he wouldn’t fire me over something like that.”

“Good.” He turns back to turn off the water and wash a plate. I looks at him queerly, then continue.

“I guess I had like a panic attack or something. He told me to take the night and possibly tomorrow off to rest up.” I hesitate, wondering if I should tell my friend about what actually happened. I dismiss the thought quickly; he’d think I’m crazy. “I guess I’ve been a little wound up lately.” I pick up a clean plate to dry and put away.

“I kinda noticed,” Gerard says, placing another clean dish on the draining board, “You need a break from there.” 

“I guess,” I mumble. I like working at the restaurant, truly, but it's undoubtedly a stressful environment. Everything obviously has to happen so fast for customers to be able to get their food as quickly as possible. It's a constant race, not helped by the fact that, as a waiter, I have to constantly keep up a calm front for the people I serve.

Gerard seems talkative tonight.

“If you’re taking tomorrow off, why don’t you come out with me and Ray? We’re gonna meet up with some friends for coffee.”

I notice something in the corner of my eye. When I turn to look, it's gone.

“Yeah,” I agree, “I’ll hang out with you guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta reader questions! These can be answered by anyone, just hit up the comment section below. I promise you live too far away for me to bite! 
> 
> 1) How do you feel about the main character, Brendon? What's your first impression of him?  
> 2) Is the story compelling or boring? Would you read more?  
> 3) Did the chapter hook you in?  
> 4) If you read this in a reasonably-priced book at a shop, would you be tempted to buy it? Would you need to read further to make that decision?  
> 5) Did you get oriented fairly quickly? Were the who/what/when/where clear?  
> 6) Is Brendon established sufficiently? Is he believable? What about the other characters?  
> 7) Is there anything you want to add?


	2. silhouette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, I take the Graphic Depictions Of Violence tag VERY seriously. This is the chapter where it begins, so if you've got a weak stomach, maybe consider skipping the last few paragraphs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, really, the Graphic Depictions Of Violence tag is very important to me.

I wake in a cold sweat, the remains of some nightmare echoing around my head. I sit up, stretch, and try to remember yesterday while the sleep clears from my head. 

Oh. Right. I had a panic attack and freaked out. Damn it, I can't believe I cried in front of my 5'6" boss. He must think I'm pathetic.

For a moment I consider going in early to make up for leaving in the middle of my shift, then I remember I told Gerard I'd go out with him and Ray today. I don't really hang out with Gee that much, not outside our apartment. He's doing some kind of art thing in college right now and his classes usually start within a few hours of my shifts ending, so there's not much time to go anywhere. Where would you go in the middle of the night anyway?

I check the clock on my nightstand. 9am. Gerard won't be back for a few hours.

I sigh and get up. The nightmare hasn't completely left me. In fact, it's starting to feel like paranoia. A shower will make it go away.

I'm the only person in the whole apartment right now, but as I step out of my clothes a weird feeling comes over me, like someone might walk in on me at any moment. Before I realise what I'm doing, I hear the bathroom door lock. The feeling lessens a little, but I still shower quickly, determined to be out of my exposed state as soon as possible. 

This is so weird. I've never been the paranoid type, and I've especially never been shy about my body. People walking in while I'm naked has never fazed me in the slightest, but today...

My heart jumps into my throat when I try to open the door. The knob won't turn, I can't get out, I'm trapped in here, I'm trapped in-

Wait.

I turn the lock. When I try the knob again the door creaks open. The panic disappears, along, apparently, with my ability to stand. I stumble into the living room and collapse on the couch, breathing heavily. This sucks. How could one nightmare I don't even remember screw up my morning this badly? Maybe work really is stressing me out.

I'm startled by a knock at the door. I get up and answer it to see a pale, soft-faced guy with a mass of curly hair. It's been a while, but Ray Toro isn't the kind of guy you just forget.

"Hey! Brendon, right?" he greets pleasantly, with that weirdly soft voice of his.

"That's me," I reply, "Gerard's not back yet, so...come in and take a seat, I guess. You want anything to drink?"

"Sure! I'll just have water if that's okay."

"One glass of water coming right up," I say as I head into the kitchen. 

"Man, I haven't seen Gerard in forever. He still doing his art thing?"

I bring Ray the glass of water. He's inspecting one of Gerard's pictures he has pinned up around the place. It's one of the weirder ones, a faceless angel with six wings. 

"I guess," I shrug, "Don't you guys work together?"

"I've been out of town a while," he responds, "Family stuff."

We talk a bit more while we wait for Gerard. Turns out "family stuff" meant a member of Ray's had died, which must've sucked for him, but he said she was old and everyone knew it was gonna happen soon, so he left a few months ago to spend some time with her before she passed and that's why he was gone for so long. Even though he said all of this in a nonchalant way, I could see he was having a tough time with it. I wasn't really sure what to say, since no one in my close family have died, so it was a little awkward. 

It's a relief when Gerard shows up around midday. I was running out of small talk topics and ways to say "I'm sorry for your loss." I'm trying really hard to not be insensitive. 

Gee and Ray embrace and exchange long-time-no-sees after Gerard changes out of his work outfit and then we're finally heading out.

Outside, a dense layer of cloud covers every inch of sky. The weather is nearly always dreary here in Panatco. It suits the town well, since the news seems to report weird deaths and muggings every other week. I guess I can't know for sure since I've lived here most of my life, but I'm pretty sure that kind of thing is usually a lot more uncommon in most cities this small. The popular myth in school was that witches cursed Panatco ages ago and the curse draws in creeps and sickos. I don't really know about curses, but there's definitely something about this place that attracts crazies. The only reason I'm still here is that Chef Wentz offered me a job back in high school. Speaking of which...

I take out my phone to text him, explaining that I'd be taking today off after all. I wondered if it was weird for an employer to have all his employees' numbers. Maybe not, The Disloyal Order is a pretty huge deal as far as restaurants go in this city. Booking there is essential and it's one of the few places to constantly donate excess food to homeless shelters. Being organised and on top of things had to be important to Wentz, just like charity and the restaurant's reputation. 

He texts me back to say he's glad to hear that I'm taking it easy and not to worry, I'll still be paid in full since he's counting it as a sick day.

"Bren! You okay?"

I look up to see that Gerard and Ray had gotten ahead of me while I was texting. I pocket my phone and jog to catch up.

The cafe we go to is called Hot Addiction. It's far from the main street, down a road that's more like an alley and that I'd avoid at all costs if I was alone at night. Actually, from the outside it looks more like a creepy bar. This is Panatco though, so most places looked like creepy bars from the outside. When we go in I discover that it's actually kinda nice. It has a warm sixties hippy aesthetic happening and there are bright flowers everywhere. Not what I'd expect from such a dark little corner of our dark little town. 

"Man, this place has changed," Ray comments, looking around, "I haven't been here in years."

Gerard waves at a table of the three people in the world who looked most at home here. They're all in outfits so out of date I'm not sure if even my grandparents would recognise the era, and they just LOOK like hippies. One of them has a really great beard, though. Another of them is looking at me kinda weirdly though, like I've just threatened him with a spoon or something. Maybe he's high or something. Gerard pulls up some extra seats so we can sit with them. 

I nearly curse out loud.

The moment I sit it feels like a huge weight I hadn't even known I was carrying was suddenly lifted away from me. I feel kinda dazed when I order my coffee. Gerard introduces me and Ray to the hippies, then them to us. There's Spencer Smith, with a wide, soft face; the Beard Guy on his right is Jon Walker, and the guy on his other side, who's finally stopped staring at me like I might be the Devil, is Ryan Ross. As pretty as they are, I privately think that they all have some of the most boring names I've ever heard.

"Hey Ray, you should show Jon what happened to your stomach," Gerard says.

I look over at Ray, confused. He lifts his shirt for Jon. The table is in the way, but what I can see of him looks REALLY bad. I think it's some kind of burn, but it doesn't look much like any I've ever seen. It looks so painful, why hadn't he mentioned it earlier? More importantly, why didn't he put some kind of bandage over it, it's so gross. All shiny pink skin and puss. 

Jon nods, inspecting the disgusting flesh closely. "Yeah, I think I have something for that. I can bring it out to you sometime if you want." I look between him, Ray and Gerard incredulously. That doesn't look like the kind of thing you could just treat with hippy home remedies, you went to the ER for that. Maybe Ray doesn't have health coverage or something. 

"It's not too bad, you should be fine after a few days."

"Cool." Ray let his shirt fall back over his mortal injury.

"Not too bad?" I cut in, "A few days? Dude, I'm not a doctor, but that definitely needs a few weeks at the very least!"

"Right," Jon says quickly, "I meant weeks."

I open my mouth to say something about how disgusting it looks when the waiter brings out our tray of coffees. As he's passing them out Ryan turns to me.

"So if you're not a doctor, what do you do, Brendon?" he asks.

I quirk an eyebrow at the sudden change of topic.

"I'm a waiter at Disloyal," I tell him, "I also prepare employee meals and I'm slowly working my why up to cooking for customers. And I make coffee."

"He's really good at coffee," Gerard tells the group.

"Oh, The Disloyal Order?" Spencer asks, "That's a big place, how'd you get the job so young?"

So, I tell everyone about my cooking classes in high school and how I'd always been top of the class and one day our teacher thought it'd be a good idea to invite a cook from Disloyal to critique dishes we were to prepare in pairs. My partner was super lazy and very vocal about how he didn't think there was any point in trying to impress someone from such a high-end place, and it quickly became obvious to everyone that I would have to carry the team, but somehow I put together something reasonable for the guy. The next day our teacher told me the cook had mentioned my name to Peter Wentz, the head chef of The Disloyal Order, who now wanted to see what else I could do. The next week was weird, he had me preparing meals I'd never even heard of, some without recipes and some without any indication of what they were supposed to be aside from the name. In those cases he said I had to just make whatever I thought fit the name. Apparently I passed whatever tests he was giving me because he ended up promising a place at his restaurant as soon as I got out of school. 

Every time I retell this story it's just as weird as the experience itself, but for the first time in a long time though, I feel totally at ease. It must be something about the cafe, all of my stress has vanished and I'm laughing and joking like I hadn't in what felt like forever. I barely notice the hours slip by. 

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Checking it, I see that it's a message from Chef Wentz. He wants me to call him ASAP. I excuse myself from the table, wondering if he wanted me to come in after all. He'd probably just text me to say that, though. Maybe something happened. 

The moment I step out of the cafe all the lightheartedness I'd had around Gerard's friends fades away. I resolve to make this a quick call.

It's already dark out here, probably due to a mix of it being autumn and Panatco's trademark cloud cover. I'm searching through my contacts for Wentz's name when I see something out of the corner of my eye. I look up to see the silhouette of a person, but I can't make out any details since the street is so poorly lit. The streetlights are way too dim and spaced way too far apart. It's definitely a person in some kind of coat though, just creepily standing right between the lights to make it hard to see them properly. Great. 

I go back to searching for Wentz's number, but have to stop after a moment. I look back up at the figure. I'm totally imagining it, but it almost looks like they're a lot closer than they were before. They would've had to run at least a couple of yards for that to be possible though, since they were still standing directly between two streetlights. I guess the paranoia's creeping back.

"Hey! Can I help you?" I shout. They make no movement to indicate that they even heard me. Must be one of the weirdos this city is prone to soaking up. I shake my head and look down at my phone again. I finally find the number and hit dial, putting the phone to my ear. When I look up again I feel my stomach drop. The creep is definitely closer, by at least four streetlights. They're nearly within speaking distance, but I still can't see a single detail of their features aside from the dark trench coat they're wearing. I barely hear Wentz pick up, immediately demanding to know where I am. I take a step back, then a few more until I'm under the halo of another streetlight. 

I feel a hand on my shoulder and see the figure start running towards me. Time seems to slow as I drop my phone, unsure of whether I should be more worried about Trench Coat or the hand, which has been joined by another covering my mouth, muffling my screams as they drag me to the entry of the alley I hadn't noticed I'd stepped in front of. I think I'm more concerned about the hands, to be honest. 

I kick and struggle to get out of the grip of whoever's holding me, but they're strong. Their grip doesn't loosen in the slightest as they pull me away from the light of the street. I see Trench Coat step into the alley, walking calmly now. He's close enough that I can make out a mop of greasy hair that falls over his eyes. The coat itself is a lot rattier than I first thought, like moths have been working at it for a long while. I fight harder as he gets closer but it's still not helping. I guess now I'm equally worried about both strangers, since they seem to be working together.

 _NOPE_ , screw that, Trench Coat is definitely scarier. Now that he's right in front of me I can see him smiling a sadistic, _fanged_ smile. This guy has freaking huge pointy _things_ where his canines should be. I try to scream some more, but Mystery Hands has gotten the sense to pinch my nose. It wasn't much use to begin with, but I can feel my strength disappear faster as my body runs out of oxygen. Trench Coat brings his hands to my face to tilt my head, exposing my neck, Mystery Hands not loosening their iron grip for a moment. As if tonight couldn't get any worse, Trench Coat has claws, which I can feel delicately trace the length of an artery in my neck. He leans forward to run his tongue along it and I squeeze my eyes shut. I hadn't noticed I was crying until now. I think I'm passing out, too. I'm not sure what it's supposed to feel like, but I'm thinking some indicators are being unable to hold up my arms to keep fighting Mystery Hands and my lungs giving up on screaming at me for air.

I'm dizzy and losing feeling in my hands and feet, but I still feel Trench Coat's teeth break the skin of my throat slowly, almost like he's savouring the moment. The word "vampire" floats around my head, but my thoughts aren't really sure what to do with it or how it got there as everything falls away.

I'm suddenly on my hands and knees, gasping desperately for the night's icy air. I've never been so glad in my life to be able to choke such miserable, painful breaths down my agonised throat. 

Blood spatters onto the ground in front of me, making me recoil in horror. I put a hand to my aching throat and feel something warm and wet there. I take it away to see bloody fingertips, but not enough red that the stuff on the ground could be mine. I look up and the scene I take in shakes me to my core. 

At the alley's entrance, a guy in a white button-up is holding Trench Coat against the wall of the alley, tearing out their throat with his bare teeth, turning his head to spit out a chunks of flesh before going back in for more. I feel like I'm about to be sick, but I'm completely _transfixed_ and can't look away from what's happening. The squelching of wet flesh between teeth echoes around my head. Trench Coat isn't even moving anymore, but the guy keeps biting, ripping and spitting hungrily, except he doesn't swallow anything. When all that's left is gory spine, he takes the head in both hands and twists sharply, separating it from the shoulders. The body slumps to the ground. 

The guy holds the head by its hair, looking into its eyes as he says "We're gonna need to take a statement."

I'm pretty sure I feel my soul briefly abandon my body when he turns to look at me and I recognise Frank from down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I changed it so Frank was killing Trench Coat instead Mystery Hands cuz I later decided I didn't like how Brendon would have to ignore the Totally Obvious Thing in front of him to turn to see MH. It's only a minor change, but it was bothering me so ya. No actual plot relevance was harmed in the editing of this chapter. 
> 
> Also, what's my deal? I always imagine everyone to be Revenge Era in these darker fics, so I always describe Frank as a guy with a shaved head and white dress shirt. I could have done Projekt Rev Frank in all his glory, but nooooo, I'm stuck in 2004.


	3. drip

It was seeing Frank's face, mouth dripping with carnage, that made my body give in and throw up on the cold pavement in front of me. It doesn't make sense, none of this makes sense. What's Frank from down the hall doing here and why has he just torn a guy's head off? 

He speaks again. 

"Man, that's gross. One thing I'll never miss is eating something bad and being sick everywhere."

"Give him a break." My head snaps up at that second voice. "He's had an awful night, he's probably scared outta his mind."

I flinch away from the cold, familiar hand that comes to rest on my shoulder from behind, looking up in horror at my boss, Chef Peter Wentz. In his other hand is a bloodied cleaver. I look behind me to see the headless body of what must've been Mystery Hands. 

I scramble away from Wentz, only to hit the wall behind me. This is insane, what are _they_ doing here? 

Just then, Gerard appears at the entrance of the alley.

"Brendon!" he exclaims, running over to kneel in front of me, "What happened?" Ray and the others follow him. They stand around us, watching me in concern. 

"I don't- I don't know, I just- I was calling my boss-" I look up at Wentz, terrified.

He sighs.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I called to warn you about these guys." He looks at Gerard. "Your brother saw them bleeding Brendon out a few minutes ago."

Gerard looks away for a moment. His brow furrows in concentration. 

"I guess that really took it out of him," Gerard finally says, "I can barely hear him."

What are they talking about? Gee's brother saw me? Where is he? Why didn't he help when that guy had his teeth in my neck? I take in a ragged breath. 

"Doesn't matter, let's get his statement before I get arrested," says Frank, finally dropping Trench Coat's head. It hits the ground with a wet thud. "He's probably just tired or something, we can figure it out later." He crouches next to Gerard, looking into my eyes. "Where were you when you first saw these guys? Hey!" He grabs my jaw and turns my face to his when I try to look away.

"Outside the cafe," I say quickly, not wanting to tick him off.

"What'd they do?"

"C'mon, leave him alone," Ryan says, putting a hand on Frank's shoulder, "He's had a rough night, I'm sure someone can ask him this stuff later."

"Patrick and Joe will be here to clean up," Wentz interrupts, pocketing his phone, "Can you take Brendon somewhere? He doesn't need to be here and we can question him later." Frank stands, an annoyed look joining the gore on his face.

Ryan speaks up. "My house is near here, we'll go there. You know the address, right?" Wentz nods.

"Can you stand?" Gerard asks me gently.

I nod, getting to my knees. Gerard and Ryan pull me up from the ground, Gee keeping a steady arm around me as we leave the alley with Ray, Jon and Spencer. When we get to the street I run for the nearest trashcan to hurl up what was left of my stomach. This is not my night. 

When I'm done we keep walking, Ryan and Jon leading the way, discussing something in hushed tones. Spencer notices my phone on the ground and hands it to me. I completely forgot that I dropped it. My head's dizzy with exhaustion and about a million questions. Why is nobody even fazed by this? A fanged psycho and his man-of-steel accomplice just attacked me and nobody is freaking out. Except me, of course. I don't think I'll ever sleep again. 

After twenty minutes of walking, featuring me jumping at every shadow, we reach Ryan's house, a smallish place with only one floor. This must be right on the outskirts of Panatco, I can see a tree-covered hill rising up in the distance. When we get inside we headed to the living room, Ryan putting a thick blanket over his couch for me to lie down on. I guess I must be covered in blood and grime.

Jon leaves the room, saying something about getting medicine for Ray, while Gerard kneels next to me. Spencer leaves with him.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

"How the hell could I be okay?" I demand, a sob escaping my throat, "Somebody just tried to bite out my throat and Frank from down the hall killed him with his bare teeth." Tears begin to stream down my face. "And my boss who I've looked up to for years beheaded someone with a cleaver from our kitchen."

Gerard nods sadly. "I'm sorry this happened. Of all the ways someone could find out, this is probably the worst."

"Find out what? Nothing I've seen has made any sense, I feel like I'm losing it." Gerard doesn't seem to know what to say next, so I help him out. "Who were they? What did they want, why did one of them have _fangs_?" My mouth snaps shut. I didn't mean to say that last part. I'm pretty sure the fangs were just my brain overreacting, but it just slipped out. I must look as crazy as I feel.

"They were vampires," say Ryan softly. Now I'm really not sure who's crazy here. Vampires aren't real, what is this, Twilight? A small voice in the back of my head asks how else all of this could be explained. 

"They're probably new to town," says Ray, "Everyone knows not to attack regular people here, it's grounds for execution." He gestures to me. "You saw that first hand."

"Frank and my boss are executioners?"

"Pete's a hunter," say Ryan, "Well, ex-hunter. Finding trouble makers and putting them down used to be his job. Frank was probably just helping him out tonight." 

I look up at the ceiling, taking this all in. 

"What about you guys?" I ask, "How do you know all this?"

"I'm a vampire." I recoil away from my roommate. "Sorry," Gerard says quickly, standing and taking a few steps back, "That was poor timing, I should've told you later."

"Have you been a vampire this whole time?"

"Yeah," he says apologetically. 

I let my head fall back, squeezing my eyes shut. 

"Look." Ryan pulls a chair over to sit next to me. "I don't know how long you've lived here-"

"My whole damn life."

"But Panatco isn't like most towns. The people here...they're different."

"Different as in they suck blood and rip heads off with their bare teeth?" I ask sarcastically.

"Some of them do," Ryan admits, "Some of them grow fur and a tail once a month, some of them weren't born in the bodies they walk around in. It's a weird town." 

"You mean vampires aren't the only monsters here?"

"We're not all monsters," Ray cuts in fiercely. I look at him, surprised at the aggression. Ray's one of them?

"The politically correct term is 'supernatural'" Jon supplies, finally back with some kind of medical kit, "Monster is a slur."

"'Politically correct?'" I reply incredulously, watching Jon set up a chair for Ray. Spencer's back and handing out water for me and coffee for everyone else.

"We're people too, ya know," say Gerard quietly, sipping his coffee.

"Wait, how can you drink coffee?" I ask, "You just said you were a vampire."

"We can eat anything you can, blood's just better for us," Gerard replies, "It's easier to digest or something."

I look down at the glass in my hands. I've lived here since I was a baby and never had a single clue about any of this. 

"What's gonna happen to the guys that attacked me? You can't just tell the police about what happened, can you?"

"Actually, we can and we do," says Spencer, "Most of the cops here know about supernaturals."

"Speaking of which, here they are now." Ray's looking out a window facing the street. 

I listen and hear a car pull up. Is that them? Are they here to kill me for what I saw?

"I guess that's our cue to leave," Ray says to Gerard. Jon hurriedly tapes a bandage over his burn, which I now realise is way bigger and grosser than I thought, before letting him go. They leave the living room, downing the last of their coffees as they go. Are they in trouble with the police or something? 

Ryan follows them into the hall to open the door right as someone knocks. 

"Hey Detective Stump!" he greets, "How's it going?"

"Babe, you would not believe the night I've had." A short guy with a soft, pale face follows Ryan into the living room. His partner has curly hair to rival Ray's. "There I was, doing the paperwork about a guy we found in a dumpster, when Pete texted me to say that his favourite waiter was about to be eaten out here." He looks down at me. "I guess that was you."

"Are you one of them too?" I ask, "Are you a...supernatural?"

The guy chuckles. "Nah, I'm just your regular, boring cop." He sits on the chair next to me, offering his hand. "I'm Detective Stump, this is Detective Trohman. We just wanna ask a few questions about what happened." 

I shake each of their hands. "I'm Brendon Urie. I probably can't help you, I have no idea who they were."

"That's okay, we just need you to confirm what Pete and Frank told us so we don't have to arrest them."

They didn't have many questions. Turns out they just had to hear me say I was attacked and that Wentz and Frank were justified in brutally murdering two people. It's when I was showing them the wound on my neck that something crosses my mind.

"Hey, am I gonna turn into a vampire?" I ask, slightly panicked.

"Did they give you anything to drink?" inquires Detective Trohman.

I shake my head.

"Then no. Vampire bites can't turn you."

"Oh." That's a relief. 

"Why didn't you tell us about this?" Ryan demands, pulling my jacket collar down further to get a better look.

"I'm sorry, I forgot," I says, surprised.

"Spence, get the bite kit," he commands, "This could be infected, idiot!"

"You guys just said a bite wouldn't turn me!"

"Dude, even human bites cause serious infections," says Jon, leaning over to look at the bite, "Not to mention, this could've pierced an artery."

Detective Stump stands. "Do you need an ambulance?"

"Nah, we can drive him to the ER if we have to," replies Ryan.

"I guess we're done here, then. If we need anything else we'll call, but aside from that you're in the clear." He gives me a stern look. "Unless you want to tell a natural that this was anything other than a normal mugging. Do I have to explain to you why that would be a bad idea?"

"Natural?" 

"Anyone who might not know about supernaturals," Spencer clarifies, returning with a first aid kit. He sets it down next to Ryan.

"Of course I won't," I says, "Who'd believe me anyway?"

"That's the spirit!" Detective Stump seems to brighten up immediately. "I guess we'll be out of your hair then."

"I'm a little more concerned about what could be in his hair." I nod at Detective Trohman. 

Detective Stump laughs. "That's fair. See you around, guys!" 

Ryan cleans the blood from my neck with a damp cloth as they leave, Spencer getting out some kind of disinfectant. I notice some jars of suspicious-looking substances in the kit. 

"Huh."

What?" I ask Ryan.

"Looks like Pete and Frank got you just in the nick of time. Our friend barely touched you." He looks closer. "He was close, but he didn't get to hit any major blood vessels." Ryan takes the disinfectant from Spencer and squeezes some onto my neck. "The only way you'd know he was there is by these two dots. They'll heal fast, though."

I relax as he works on my neck, Spencer handing him a small needle before leaving with Jon.

"This is just in case of venom. It's rare, but some vampires can paralyse prey with their saliva." 

"It seemed to bleed a lot," I say, looking at the cloth Ryan had cleaned my neck with. It's covered in gore.

"Yeah, vampire bites are like that. All of them have something in their saliva that makes wounds stay open longer." I shudder. "Also, their teeth are ridiculously sharp, I once saw Frank bite the corner off a counter." Ryan tapes a small bandage to my neck.

"What? Why would he do that?" 

"He was leaning on it and he slipped." 

"Huh." I always thought he was kinda weird. Guess I was right in an odd way. I sit up.

"Hey, you mind if I crash here?" 

"I can drive you home," Ryan says, repacking the first aid kit, "I guess you don't want to walk home alone after what happened, huh?"

"It's not that," I say, "Gerard is my roommate and Frank lives down the hall."

"They won't hurt you. When he's not biting counters, Frank's actually pretty harmless," Ryan says with a frown, "He just gets a little violent when it comes to jerks. Besides, you saw what happens when people can't follow the law." 

"There are vampire laws?"

"Supernatural laws," he corrects, "They're mostly about staying away from naturals and stuff."

"Oh."

"You can stay if you want." Ryan stands, first aid kit in hand. "I guess you want time to mull all this over?"

"Thanks." I get up from the couch. "You got a shower?"


	4. sunshine

Turns out I was wrong about never being able to sleep again. Watching the steaming red water wash down the drain, all the exhaustion finally caught up with me. Nearly getting eaten is tiring. Finding out your roommate, the guy from down the hall, and your boss aren't human is tiring. I wanted to think about what I'd been told, about what it all meant, but as I pulled on the shirt Ryan found for me while my clothes were being washed, I realised I was barely keeping my eyes open. Weirdly enough, I don't think I've slept that well in a long time. Despite the near-death experience, I woke up feeling _refreshed._

Ryan is waiting in the kitchen when I get up, eating toast and reading a really beat-up book. It reminds me of the homemade travel journals you see on Pinterest. Actually, a lot of his house looks like it's decorated with Pinterest crafts. Not that I'd know anything about that, I don't have Pinterest. In fact, I don't even know what Pinterest is. Never heard of her.

"Mornin', sunshine!" Ryan greets me, "Can I get you anything for breakfast?"

"Just toast and coffee are fine," I answer, "What are you reading?"

Ryan hands me the journal before turning to prepare coffee. The heading on the page it's open to reads _Vampire._

"Since you apparently know nothing about the city you've lived in your whole damn life, I thought I'd help you out." He taps the journal. "This is a basic run-down of every kind of person I've come across in my life, with a few extra things from my family's records."

"You mean your family is involved? They know about this stuff?"

"Everyone sixteen and over," he replies, pressing down the lever on the toaster, "There's a rule that nobody knows until they're sixteen. Kids like to talk, you know?"

"Were you angry when you found out? I mean, it must've been weird, right?"

Ryan shrugs. "Not really. I understood the reasoning, my family is supposed to protect the paranormal community and it'd suck for one of us to spill the beans, even as a kid. I also grew up around witchcraft, so I was already used to knowing stuff most people consider bull."

I pause for a moment, almost hearing the gears in my head turn.

"Witchcraft?" When I said the word, a million images of cult sacrifices, curses, and creepy old ladies flashed through my head. Okay then. I guess it's not the _weirdest_ thing I've ever heard.

"Yeah. Jon, Spence and I practise."

I wonder if there's a specific, tactful way I'm supposed to approach this. It would probably be rude to voice what I was picturing right now, and if he's serious I don't want him to get mad and curse me.

"That's...cool...I guess."

When my toast and coffee are finally ready we sit at Ryan's table, where several books are stacked to one side.

"I guess I should've prepared some kind of introduction. Welcome to the paranormal world?"

"Better than trying to bite my throat out," I say, shrugging.

Ryan laughs. "I guess so. Anyway, as one of the village wise guys, it's my solemn duty to help civilians such as yourself embark on your spiritual quest to learn about our ancient peoples and grow stronger, with the goal of one day defeating the great evil that plagues our lands, restoring the balance and bringing peace to all of us. If you succeed you will be knighted and given land over which you and your descendants will rule forever." 

We sit for a moment, looking into each other's eyes. I bite my lip, trying to process what the hell just came out of this probable-stoner's mouth. Ryan smirks, then breaks down into laughter. My brow furrows as I try to understand.

"Share the joke?"

"I'm sorry," he says, wiping _tears_ from his eyes, "I'm totally kidding, I haven't looked at the guidebook for bringing people into our world in years, I'm just making this all up as I go."

I roll my eyes. "There's a guidebook?"

Ryan's still snickering. "Kinda, it's more like a list of things we gotta tell people to help them more smoothly transition into it, you know? Anyway, Jon and Spencer are coming around, they can do it better than me."

"They wont't give me a magic sword and tell me to go fight a dragon, will they?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

The doorbell rings.

"I'll ask them now."

As he answers the door, I look at the journal in front of me, then at the stacks of books at the end of the table. I can still barely wrap my head around it. Everything's different now. All the people I went to school with, worked with, even passed on the street were different. I wonder how drastically my life's about to change. Completely, at the very least. My own boss is a _vampire_ slayer. 

Ryan returns to the table with Jon and Spencer. 

"Alright, Brendon." I guess Spencer's taking the lead now. "First thing's first. Jon, Ryan, me, we're witches. We're protecters, healers, and the go-to authorities on all things supernatural. If you have a question, ask us. We're sworn to neutrality and honesty, so you can trust anything we tell you to be the truth."

I nod slowly. "Neutrality. What do you mean?"

"A lot of groups don't necessarily get along," Jon says, flipping through one of the books on the table, "You'll find that a lot of people are divided into factions and families. They fight a lot and we stay the hell out of it. We'll provide aid to anyone who comes to us, no matter what." He stops at a heavily illustrated page and passes the book to me. The picture is of two grotesque, pointy-eared creatures snarling at each other. "Two of the strongest groups, the Montagues and Capulets of Panatco, are ghouls and vampires. They're always looking for scores to settle with each other."

"Ghouls? What about the werewolves?" I joke.

"We don't really get a lot of trouble from werewolves here," Spencer says, "Panatco has one of the biggest packs I know of, mostly because they like to adopt stray kids regardless of whether they're wolves or not. They even took me in as a kid. They're generally non-violent and the movies mostly lied about them and vampires being born enemies. Pretty much everyone likes the pack, they're big on community and support."

"Okay, so Gerard, Ray, and the guys that attacked me are vampires...Frank and Wentz are too, I'm guessing?"

"You'll have to ask them," says Spencer. 

"Part of the neutrality thing is that we don't give out personal or compromising info about anyone," Ryan explains, "That rule was implemented when my grandfather was nearly killed for telling someone's parents they'd been turned. The line's a little blurred on that one, though. Are we allowed to tell you what metals are toxic to vampires? Do we think you'll use that information to help or hurt someone? It's complicated."

"Do you know? How to kill vampires, I mean?"

"We know how to kill pretty much anyone," Spencer answers.

Well that was kinda ominous. I decide to lighten the conversation up a little.

"Alright. So if vamps and ghouls are the Montagues and Capulets, Does that mean there's a Romeo and Juliet?"

"There sure is." Ryan rolls his eyes. "And just like in the play, neither side is particularly happy about it."

"Though they are handling it a lot better," Jon assures me, "They're holding a ceasefire right now, which is always good news."

Ryan put his hands on the table. "Look, you're taking all this really well and you seem willing to learn.." He takes a deep breath. "But we don't want to force you into all this. You can still go back to your normal life, we won't make you carry all the secrets of our lives if it feels like a burden."

I bite my lip thoughtfully. It _is_ a lot, there's no denying it. Part of me screams that this is all insane, these things can't be real, but for some reason I'm still accepting everything they tell me as fact. Things have happened before, things I'd written off as coincidence or my mind playing tricks, but those answers don't satisfy me anymore. _This_ is reality now, how can I even think of trying to ignore it?

"I don't think I can go back," I begin, "After last night I think it'd drive me crazy, knowing what Frank and Wentz did but still pretending they're both normal people." I take a moment to really think about my next words. Saying them would mean there really is no going back, but in that ominous thought, something stirred. _Excitement._ I look up at the three witches around the table. "I want to learn more."

Jon grins. He seems more confident in my decision than I am, to be honest. 

\--- 

Turns out there are a _lot_ of species besides your basic vampires, werewolves and ghouls. There're about a million kinds of ghosts and spirits, a bunch of things that all pretty much sound like vampires to me, magic trees, sentient statues and ghostly lights that Spencer told me not to get mixed up since they have super similar names, there are things from Japan, Russia, Scotland, there are even mermaids. Freaking. _Mermaids._ Also, there are things that are like mermaids but different.

"Wait, how can there be supernaturals not native to America here? Like the uh...kitsunes?"

"Kitsune," Spencer corrects, "And it's the same way there are a lot of 'normal'-" He mimed quotation marks. "-things here. People leave their home countries for whatever reasons, stuff's imported, species are introduced. A _lot_ area-specific supernaturals have pretty much spread across the whole world by now."

I nod. That makes sense.

"Do you want to meet some nymphs?" Jon asks.

I look at him in surprise. "You mean now?"

"I have offerings to take to some of my friends today," he says with a shrug, "Thought you'd like to come along."

"Can I really?"

"Of course."

Suddenly, I'm buzzing with excitement. I've never met tree spirits before, I can't believe I might actually get to see some! Alright, now I'm starting to feel like some kind of nature hippy, but who wouldn't want to meet magic plant people?

"They'll be shy at first," says Ryan, "They might not come out today. Actually, we don't even know if you're gifted when it comes to spirit communication, you might not be able to see them anyway."

I frown. "Spirit communication?"

"Well, nymphs are spiritual entities, right?" Jon says, "I'm not at all gifted, so it was a long time before I could even catch a glimmer of one." He paused to think. "I'm pretty sure I could always kinda feel them, but I had know idea who or how many would come out to meet me. Even now it takes effort from both them and me to be able to see them properly."

"But even if they don't want to talk to me today, I'll be less of a stranger next time I visit them, right?" I ask.

Jon seemed delighted. "Exactly! Just establish that you mean no harm today!"

Since this neighbourhood really is on the outskirts of the city, the woods are close enough that we can walk. As we stroll along the streets, Jon holding two bags of Tupperware, I have a weird bouncy energy. I mean, it's not that weird for me, it's just that I've been so down lately and I feel like I should be more upset about last night, but I'm just _not_. It's like my depressive slump was sucked out by those vampires and now I'm back to how I was before I left high school. I haven't felt this good in forever and I want to make the most of it, skipping ahead of the others, asking them hushed questions about what they do as witches. I joke that I'd be a crappy witch when they talk about how much meditation and focus is involved. 

"Not necessarily," Ryan replies, "Everyone's path is different and the way you practise your craft is completely up to you. I think you could learn your own techniques and find a way to channel all that energy into magic."

"You think so?" I hum thoughtfully.

"Sure. anyone can be a witch."

\--- 

"What are their names?"

"I can't tell you, you gotta ask them yourself."

I huff in annoyance at Jon's answer. "It's always about asking them first with you guys."

"Permission is important," Ryan replies, lying against the tree beside me, "How could anyone trust us if we just went around spreading everyone's personal information?"

"Names are personal information?"

"To a lot of cultures names are very personal. It was once believed that if a witch knew your full name they could have complete power over you. Obviously, that's not entirely true, but knowing someone's full name does help with directing spells and curses. Names are powerful."

We're pretty deep in the woods now, with trees standing way over us on all sides. Spencer said the nymphs would take a liking to me faster if I was relaxed, so we've all been lying against some trees for a while. Jon told me to lie against a specific redwood cuz he thought the nymph there would like me the most. 

Jon's offerings took the form of old food scraps from his compost bin, dumped in small piles at the bases of certain trees. He had me shake out a container of potato peels on the other side of my tree. I'm not sure what I'd thought the offerings would be. I guess nymphs like stuff that's good for the soil. I don't know, I'm not a tree. 

Lying around, waiting to see if anyone would come to say hi, I sometimes thought I saw figures walking between distant trees, but at a second glance I'd see nothing. I'd blame it on my usual paranoia, but right now I'm so calm, so at ease that I know it can't be that.

"Are you going in to work today?" I looked over at Jon, then took out my phone to check the time. It's only five, but the sky is already getting dark. I sigh and sit up.

"I have Sundays off, but I want to go in anyway. Maybe Wentz will explain how he and Frank got there yesterday." I still want to know how he knew it would happen. He said something about Gerard's brother seeing it...

"Let's go then." Ryan stood up. "I think the nymphs have gotten used to you by now."

"Can we come back soon?" I ask hopefully.

"Sure, what days do you have off?"

**Author's Note:**

> If you have anything you want to say, especially regarding things you think should be changed, please comment. All feedback is welcome.


End file.
